Dear GWMs

Dear gay white males:

When you slide into my DM’s with, “you’re pretty cute for a black guy,” realize this isn’t a compliment. It’s a microagression and worthy of a black eye.

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Destiel Denied

Destiel Denied: On Supernatural, Queerbaiting, and Bisexual-erasure

The Road so Far

Recently, Supernatural ended after fifteen seasons, but not without controversy.

For those unaware, Supernatural was a fantasy series about two brothers, Dean and Sam Winchester, who hunted supernatural creatures. Following the monster-of-the-week formula perfected by Buffy and Charmed, Supernatural was a mainstay of the WB network and later the CW network. And its hunky male leads Jared Padalecki and Jensen Ackles drew in female and queer viewers alike year after year.

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I Am Not Your Ken Doll

I Am Not Your Ken Doll

Introduction 

To the uninitiated, the most popular genre of books is romance—stop laughing.  These much-derided books rake in billions of dollars each year and have subgenres such as so-called Mommy Porn a la Fifty Shades of Grey, Paranormal Romance featuring werewolves and other creatures, or Portal Fantasies like the Outlander series. In recent years there has been an explosion in male/male romance or M/M Romance to its ardent fans.  Heralded as progressive and ground-breaking by some of its readers, these can contain some problematic tropes and themes, which I’ll discuss in this post. 

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A Work In Progress

Introduction

It’s January again, which means a new year filled with new goals and dreams. The first month of the year gets its name from Janus, the two-faced Roman god of beginnings, endings, and transitions, among other things.  You can read more about him here.  

And it’s at this time of year the days grow longer with the hope of spring on the horizon, that we look to the future.   

 The Great Reset

After the dumpster fire that was 2020, we could all use a fresh start, right? 

Over the last year, our lives underwent a seismic shift as we’ve adapted to social-distancing, increased hand washing, mask-wearing, and staying home as our countries/states shut down.  

Like any massive change, it’s brought with it hiccups and setbacks as we’ve adjusted to the new normal of remote working and learning, and the pain of not being able to see loved ones in person.   

However, some good has come from this experience. The extra time spent at home has led to more people taking up a new hobby or an old one and learning new skills like coding or writing a book. It has also led to much introspection about what life will be like post-pandemic and our place in the world. 

As of this writing, over 357,000 people in the US and nearly 2 million world-wide have died. Sobering numbers to say the least. This pandemic has laid bare all our fears and forced us to confront the fragility of life and its ephemeral nature. Thinking of one’s death is seldom a happy matter, but this experience has made me realize something. Everything is a work in progress 

We Are All Works In Progress 

If 2020 taught us anything, it’s that when we think we have it all figured out, we’re thrown a curve ball. How many times over the past year have you groaned as the news reported the latest findings about the virus worse than the last? Or just when you had a routine set for work or writing, something happens to disrupt it? 

This past summer I was all set to release my debut novel. Then my editor emailed me with their notes. It wasn’t good news. The story I’d poured my heart into wasn’t up to par, and this hurt like an MFer, a feeling I’m sure you know. After nursing my bruised ego, I realized my editor was right and we agreed a rewrite was in order.  

 While I could have chosen to see this as a failure, instead, I saw it as another chance to writer better story. Because that’s what a work-in progress is: your current best iteration of whatever it is that you do. It is subject to change as you grow and get better at your craft; it’s a growing evolving thing.  

And ultimately, that’s life, too. 

Life as a Work in progress 

Who we were five months ago is vastly different than who we were five years ago. Just when we get comfortable, life changes, and so do we, because change is the only constant in the universe.  But growth is seldom linear. Like a river, its path winds back and forth, forking this way and that way. And much like a story, we can lose the plot and need to reorient ourselves. But we’ll get to the end if we persevere.  

Due to the virus, writers and other creatives have had their livelihoods disrupted, be it their publishing dates being pushed back, not being able to have in-person book launches, speaking events or book signings; or attending writer’s conferences and book festivals. But like everyone else we’re adapting.  

Everyone is now doing virtual events, which means more people can attend and participants in these events, leading to more opportunities for networking, meeting and gaining new fans and new sales. With these changes comes growing pains as people deal with new responsibilities like managing zoom calls, or in my case web design and graphic design, but we’re managing this work in progress.    

 Change—whether spurred on by external forces such as COVID-19, or internal ones, such as insights from meditation or therapy session-—can be scary. Often it is the fear of failure that stops us from even trying, but the epiphany I’ve had during quarantine is this: life is a work in progress. Regardless of failure or success, keep growing into the best version of yourself and creating the best work you can at your current skill level. 

Conclusion 

January is also the time when we make New Year’s resolutions aimed at improving ourselves, most often by losing weight/getting in shape. My top resolution this year is to become a published author and to establish myself as a freelance writer and editor.  

To that endure, I’ve revived this blog and have worked to redesign this site. This process hasn’t been easy.  

Many times, I’ve given up in frustration at trying to style it exactly how I want it, but I keep at it until I find a solution or jury rig one. It’s not perfect, but it’s a work in progress. Gradually, I plan to dip my toes in the water of freelance writing and editing. 

As most of you probably know, resolutions fail to stick because people lack accountability, so I’m asking you to hold me accountable. 

 If I don’t post at least once a week, send me an email or message me on social media and tell me to get back to work. I’ll do the same. 

COVID-19 is a plot twist most of us didn’t see coming. There will more pandemics and natural disasters as climate change intensifies. No one knows the future, but none of that matters, because there is always hope. 

 Ultimately, our lives are our greatest work in progress. And regardless of what will or has happened to us, if we hold the pen, then we determine how our story ends.  

Thanks for reading. 

Call to Action 

  What do you think?  

Let me know in the comments.  

If you liked this post, please share it on social media and consider joining my mailing list or connecting with me on social media. 

Heartless

Photo by Joshua Earle via unsplash.com

I make ice scorching.

My heart has forgotten love, 

It cuts diamonds.

Untitled Love Poem

Always and forever,

Though I endeavor, 

I’ll never do better.  

I’ll do whatever 

To get us back together.

 I miss your kiss, 

A ghost on my lips,

Light as a feather 

Against my skin.

This love is a battle I know I can win,

So I’ll fight to the end 

And never surrender. 

Long Time no Post

image by Stancu Alexandru via sxc.hu
image by Stancu Alexandru via sxc.hu

Hey, everyone,

Sorry for the lack of updates. I bought a new car and to help with payments I got a job, which doesn’t leave me as much time to write, let alone blog.

So, I’m going to experiment with writing shorter posts, say a few hundred words, post more poems, post book reviews, and try splitting longer post into smaller ones.

I’ll also be posting updates about Palingenesis, my dark fantasy/ sci-fi WIP.

Sex

Knees bent,

But cheeks spread,

Look out prostate,

Here I come.

Afternoon delight.

MSM

Straight acting, masc4masc; no fats, no fems, no blacks, or Asians; DL4DL, what the hell is wrong with us? 

 Don’t we get enough hate from straight society,  

So why do we then discriminate against who we’ll date? 

The number of abs you have or the reps you can lift  

Doesn’t make you God’s gift to men who have sex with men.  

We are all kin of the rainbow nation,  

So cool it with the discrimination. 

Some men are masculine, some are feminine,  

And some are in between. 

 Regardless, this is no reason to be mean, to cut to the quick. 

I’m sick of this shit, so I’ll cut to the chase.  

We all suck dick the same, so stop the shame game  

And let people do their own thang.  

Bang who you want to bang,  

But don’t be surprised if being a dick leaves you holding yours.  

Haircut

Hair falls to the floor,

The clippers buzz past your ear

Summer’s not far off.

Pride

Much has been said about when two members of the same gender

Share the same bed.

I can picture you now clutching your pearls,

Ready to hurl.

But the issue isn’t me.

See, when two dudes screw, you say eww.

Oh, boo hoo.

Oh no, booboo.

You don’t get to dictate who I date

Based on your supposedly Biblically-mandated hate.

Not when you pick and choose which verses to hurl at me like curses,

While ignoring the ones that would be inconvenient for you to follow—

Like working on the Sabbath; eating pork, lobster, and other shellfish; or wearing clothes of blended fabrics.

I doubt these are habits you’d kick and that makes your castigation hollow.

Don’t get it twisted.

Because I take another brother as my lover

Doesn’t diminish the spark of divinity in me.

I am not of the Enemy or less than because I love men.

I am not a traitor to my race or a waste of space for loving who I do.

So do not “pray” or weep for me.

A lion does not lose sleep over the baas of sheep;

I will not let you shake my equanimity.

For if God can bring light to those lost in the eternal night,

Restore sight to the blind, and breathe life into the dead,

Then if I eat the bread of life,

It shouldn’t matter to Him who I take to bed.          

Listen

Every day, people go on a mission to be offended by what they’ve heard

Because they did not listen.

What the heck with things like context;

As soon the warning goes out on social media,

The dog-piling begins.

Have we become so thin-skinned that a comment we don’t like

Warrants death threats and ending a person’s professional life?

Whatever happened to let’s agree to disagree?

Whatever happened to civility?

Why do we assume the worst and presume guilt before all the evidence in.

Because we hear but do not listen,

And every day our division grows;

We split into smaller and smaller factions in reaction to people’s speech and actions.

But I suppose that’s okay,

If you avoid anything verboten.

Foreboding or not, you decide. But soon there will be a lot we can’t we do or say,

And we’ll spend all day hiding away,

Afraid our words and actions could be misconstrued as offensive.

Because even the smallest slight will earn our hides a tanning.

I’m not stanning the banning of political correctness,

Just a less zealous reaction to things with which we disagree,

To listen to each other’s words and not just hear what we fear.

Tattoos

The needle breaks skin; 

The agony and ecstasy as the outline begins. 

The pain is temporary, but the design will always remind you  

Of all the shit you’ve been through. 

Each tattoo, old or new, is a totem, 

 A mark from your heart 

 That expresses your divine spark. 

Whether black and grey, technicolor; or red, white, and blue;  

Traditional, color realism, or new school,  

All tattoos are cool.  

Just make sure you don’t get kanji thinking they mean strong  

But instead they mean prostitute.  

And that they are grammatically correct,  

Lest people forever question your intellect.   

Scars

We all have them, be they physical, psychological, emotional, or spiritual.

From all the stupid things we did as a kid, both unintentional and

Self-inflicted from trying to repeat the actions depicted on TV,

To the wounds from our first serious break up,

Our scars make up the core of our character

And are boons that shouldn’t be hid away.

Every day we get new scars from the demons we must slay,

But I’m here to say we needn’t shy away or hide.

Instead, we should wear our scars with pride.

Why?

Because they are a reminder that we’re still alive,

That we survived,

That life has thrown a bus at us,

 But they roar loud and clear,

“We’re still standing.”

 We have nothing to fear because

We’ve faced death and we’re still here.

This poem is meant as a lyrical miracle,

A salve to solve your tears.

We need not heed our nightmares

Because our scars are our trusty steed

And will see us through the darkest night.

All we need do is remember our scars are near

 And we will find our inner light.